


Haccidentally In Love

by SoManyDirections, thegirlwthekittentattoo



Category: Music RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Alternate Universe - Hospital, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Corporal Punishment, Dom Liam Payne, Dom Louis Tomlinson, Dom Louis Tomlinson/Sub Harry Styles, Dom Niall Horan, Domestic Discipline, Don't Ask, Feminization, Lace Panties, M/M, Nurse Louis, Rimming, Spanking, Sub Harry, Sub Zayn Malik, Subdrop, Subspace, copious amounts of Niall Breslin, harry and louis have a domestic kink
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-04
Updated: 2019-11-04
Packaged: 2021-01-23 04:28:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21314170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SoManyDirections/pseuds/SoManyDirections, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegirlwthekittentattoo/pseuds/thegirlwthekittentattoo
Summary: Louis moves to Manchester in hopes of a new start after being told he’s too Dom — whatever that means. Little does he know that he might just get more than he bargained for. He's not complaining.OR the one where Harry can’t stay out of the hospital where Louis works. Zayn is an expert at interpreting Liam’s eyebrows, Niall is here for a good time, and Bressie just wants to finish one damn book.The Dom/Sub Romcom AU that nobody asked for and that's also a little like a whole season of Friends. Multi POV and episodic - all ships are main ships.
Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson, Niall Breslin/Niall Horan, Zayn Malik/Liam Payne
Comments: 14
Kudos: 110





	Haccidentally In Love

**Author's Note:**

> **HELLO **
> 
> Here be a very self indulgent Dom/Sub romcom AU that we hope you enjoy as much as we’re enjoying writing it. Please note that whilst these characters are based on real people, they are _characters_ and their characterisations will remain consistent _for this fic_, but are in no way reminiscent of real life. Please don’t expect that. In our opinion they are delightful, but it’s a fun story, with fun characters so take it with a pinch of salt. 
> 
> We have a lot written for this, please expect it to be entertaining and episodic rather than an in-depth overarching plot. We’re posting this chapter to gauge interest so if you enjoy it and would like us to continue please do let us know.   
  
**RE LITTLE THINGS - **it is in no away abandoned and will be updated soon. Both stories are being written at once, so feel free to enjoy both. 
> 
>   
**DISCLAIMER**
> 
> Obviously this is made up. People aren’t real and all that. 
> 
> Furthermore, we have read some amazingly well written BDSM AU’s before, we've read some amazing discipline fics and yes they have definitely inspired us to create our own in a fandom we love. We've tried to make this as original as possible, but we think it’s only right and fair to always say when it’s a subject you’ve been inspired by from many different sources. 
> 
> We definitely do not believe we have invented Sub drops, the entire Dom/Sub/Switch dynamic here, cuddling to help with the sub drop but we also think that's just a general part of after care in ALL BDSM life, the physical affects of a sub drop etc, pills to stop it (or in some fics like ABO etc I think people sometimes use suppressants).
> 
> We've tried to add our own laws to the world, but it's fandom and we think originality isn't always going to be a thing. So we're saying it now that we are not claiming to have re-invented the wheel and there are many writers who have done it better than us. But we thought this fandom and these pairings also deserved one. We think two writers could literally take the exact same prompt or even full on plot and they would be completely different stories because people write differently and we love that.
> 
> That being said, if this inspires you or any other work like it, PLEASE write it. We'd love to read it and we wouldn't ever be offended to have something similar knocking around. We wrote this because we like to read it and we couldn't find one like it in a fandom we love. So yeah, feel free.
> 
> Hit us up if you ever want some good recs! 
> 
> **WARNING PLEASE READ **  
This is an AU in which everyone is either a Dom/Sub/Switch. Their biology is different. Therefore, it’s highly unlikely that there will be safe words and other common practice when it comes to issues like discipline. Simply because Doms are _caring_ and can sense what a Sub needs. You will see, Subs have the exact same rights that Doms do, however if a lack of safe wording will trigger you then we implore you to please not read. 
> 
> Punishments are not sexual in nature. 
> 
> Safe words exist for sexual scenes if that is something a couple would participate in. Much like any couple with kinks.

“Can’t believe I’m paying national insurance for this.” She’s furious. Louis can hardly blame her — if he’d been waiting over two hours to see a doctor for an infected toenail, he, too, would be a bit worked up. Though perhaps _he_ might have taken a hint from the countless posters all over the A&E, detailing what, exactly, a true emergency was, before shouting at the first pair of navy scrubs he saw. Still, telling her that he understood how she was feeling wasn’t having the effect his nursing preceptors said it ought. _Just empathise_, they’d said. _Angry patients just want to be heard_. 

Well, Louis had heard her. He was pretty sure the entirety of the bay he was working had heard her, as well as triage, trauma bay, and anyone in the staff lounge. Leigh-Anne, his manager and a saint, had come to rescue him then, sending him off to lunch and taking over soothing the rapidly purpling old woman.

It’d been three weeks since he’d moved to Manchester, and started a new job, and it was still taking some getting used to. He’d expected it to. He’d _wanted_ it to. He wanted a fresh start, after Eleanor and Royal Infirmary and that whole clusterfuck, and this was _exactly_ what he needed.

He thought.

The shift overall was just not going well. It’s the first one he’s on his own, and he thought he’d be fine — there were only so many ways to be an Accident & Emergency nurse, and surely Royal Infirmary and Doncaster weren’t that much different than Manchester, at least in terms of _nursing_ care. A fresh start, that’s what Louis needed. But it’s not going well. The shouty lady aside, he feels personally targeted by the moody receptionist, getting the worst, most obnoxious patients, and Jesy-the-charge had already corrected him ten times. Possibly more. He’d stopped counting, because keeping a tally of the times he’d been corrected by the bossy charge nurse was doing nothing more than pissing him off.

Louis scrubs a hand through his hair and tries to shake off the unpleasantness of his last encounter, glancing at his watch as he picks at the last of his lunch. Nothing spectacular — Louis has never been good in the kitchen. Typical dom. _Too dom_, Eleanor had said, and really, what the hell did that mean? How could someone be _too dom_? Because he cared? Because he didn’t want her to walk home alone, didn’t want her to do something dangerous? What, that made him too dom?

He’s interrupted from his thoughts by Liam coming into the lounge, beaming when he sees Louis.

“Alright?” he asks him, coming over to clap him on the shoulder. “Liking it alright so far?”

“Eh, an A&E in Manchester’s about the same as an A&E in Doncaster, I reckon,” he says, grinning. He doesn’t want Liam to worry or fuss. “Gotta say the doms are a bit less obnoxious in Doncaster though.”

Liam rolls his eyes and nudges Louis in the shoulder. Liam is a textbook dom — broad shoulders and a sunny disposition, excellent in a crisis. He and Louis met at uni, when Louis was studying nursing and Liam was studying to be a professional dom, and when Louis texted and told Liam that he needed out —needed a fresh start, Liam had gotten him the job in Manchester, cleaned out his spare bedroom, and now here he was. In Manchester, in an A&E, being yelled at by old women who were tired of waiting.

Louis is tired of waiting, too. Maybe for different things, though.  


*********************

After his lunch break, he returns to find that he’s been given a new patient. Expecting the worst, he’d flipped open the chart to skim it.**  
**

“One of our regulars,” the nurse sitting at the bay’s station with him says. Doreen, Louis thinks her name is. Slow as treacle moving uphill, but nice enough. “You’ll love him. Cheeky lad. Niall and Bressie are great fun, too.”

The chart on the door says _Harry E. Styles_, and his list of previous visits is longer than any Louis has seen, not that he’s seen at lot at this particular hospital. This visit is labelled _skin issue_, which could, conceivably be anything. He tucks the chart under his arm and raps lightly at the door before opening it. 

“Mr. Styles?” he asks, and all three people in the room turn to face him. They were clearly mid-conversation, but they stop when Louis walks in. There’s a curly-headed patient perched on the bed, kicking his legs back and forth, his bright green eyes sparkling, and two other men bracketing the bed — a burly Dom with a tattered paperback in one hand, and a blond sub (he assumes) poking at a mobile, the tip of his tongue poking out between his lips. All three of them are fit —Louis isn’t _blind_, just on shift — but it’s the dom on the bed that catches his attention, and not just because he’s the patient. Louis isn’t the type to think about patients beyond what their immediate needs are, but he can’t help but notice how fit this particular patient is — long and lean. Louis isn’t a betting man, but if he were, he’d bet Mr. Styles had a hell of an arse.

“Harry,” he says brightly, offering Louis a wave. “This is Niall and Niall, my doms. We call the big one Bressie.” As soon as he opens his mouth, Louis knows he had it wrong — Harry practically screams sub, despite the tattoos, the broad shoulders, the way, even perched on the bed, Louis can tell he’s tall. 

Louis nods politely to the two, and sits down across from Harry, glancing through the triage notes.

“You’ve got an infected tattoo, looks like,” he says, and Harry nods, like infected tattoos were a common occurrence, and one that Louis should get used to if he was going to be a proper A&E nurse. “Right, let’s have a look.” Louis can’t help the tumble of disappointment when Harry doesn’t take his shirt off, or reach for his pants and instead happily kicks off his shoes, stripping off his left sock. There, on his big toe, is...

“That’s —“ definitely infected, he thinks, but he touches around the edges gently. The skin is hot. “Is that—“

“It’s a camel!” Harry says brightly. “On my big toe. For camel toe. Get it?”

Louis is only mildly horrified. “You need to fire your artist, mate,” he says, because the mass of black lines do not resemble a camel. A flower, maybe, but even that’s being generous.

Bressie— the big one, Louis is pretty sure that was his name — snorts. “If only it were that easy.”

“I did it myself,” Harry says, by way of explanation. “For a laugh!” He glances down at his toe, a little mournfully. “Bressie didn’t laugh.”

“Still not laughing,” he intones from the corner.

Louis wonders why on earth Harry had been allowed to tattoo himself in the first place. Surely with two doms they could’ve kept a better eye on him. “Well, I can about bet you that’s infected,” he says, stripping off his gloves. “Let me go talk to the doctor and we’ll get you started on some antibiotics. Probably do some blood tests, make sure it’s not spread. Have you got a temperature, anything like that?”

Harry shrugs a shoulder. “Dunno, haven’t checked.” His dimples deepen. “Are you going to take my temperature? Shall I bend over?”

Bressie sighs from the corner, and Niall collapses into laughter.

Louis trips over— his shoes? The bin? Nothing? He catches himself on the wall, cheeks flushing a bit. He’d love to stick something up Harry’s arse, but it wouldn’t be a thermometer. “Ah, not necessary, thank you,” he says, but what he wants to say is _please_. 

Harry has a bit of a temperature, and Louis frowns, feeling his forehead. The sub arches up into the touch like a particularly affectionate cat and Louis’ heart flutters. He has to clear his throat to keep his Dom instincts from just going wildly out of control and doing something insane, like rubbing through Harry’s curls. 

“Well, a solid course of antibiotics should do the trick. I’ll let the doctor know, yeah? Sit tight. Can I get you anything?”

“A banana?” Harry asks hopefully, and Louis smiles.

“Sure thing, I can make a banana happen, NHS budget might just stretch that far. Anyone else?”

The blond dom is poking at a mobile phone, and Bressie shakes his head, going back to his book. “All set, thanks.”  
  
***************************

“_Shall I bend over_, Harry, really?” Bressie asks the second the door clicks shut behind the nurse. “That’s the best you’ve come up with?”

“Y’know, in case he wanted to—”

“No, I got the joke, mate, but _really._” Bressie’s had just about enough of Harry’s little haccidents. He had plans for his Saturday, plans that did not involve sitting in an exam room in A&E while Harry got his —  
  
“Should I have asked if he wanted to see my camel toe?” Harry interrupts his thoughts. “He’s already _seen_ my camel toe, though, so that doesn’t work, does it? Guess I could’ve asked if he wanted to see my moose knuckle.” His green eyes light up and Bressie points at him.  
  
“No. No, you’re not going there. We’re finished with the at-home tattoos, understand?” He lets just enough of the dom leak into his voice. “I’m not bringing you back here in a fortnight for a _moose knuckle_.”  
  
“Well it wouldn’t be a _fortnight_ Bres…” Harry adds helpfully reaches out his foot to nudge Niall. “He’ll probably be taken by then. It’ll have to be tomorrow.” 

There’s a soft rap at the door, which opens a moment later to admit Zayn, the receptionist, but also Harry’s friend from uni. “Heya, Haz. Gonna be able to keep your toe, mate?”

Bressie snorts out a laugh. “Better hope,” he says. “That camel ended up being a bit more trouble than it’s worth.”

“Don’t say that, you’re going to offend my Camel.” Harry turns to Zayn, grinning wildly, “Clear your diary, I’m definitely getting married soon.”

Oh Christ. Bressie isn’t a stranger to Harry’s fantasies, but if he’s already mentally engaged to Louis-the-nurse, this doesn’t bode well for Bressie’s free time.

“Hope you’re not gonna serve vegan shit like that last bonding ceremony we went to.” Niall shudders, “Didn’t even have a free bar.” 

“Don’t encourage him,” Bressie tells Niall, giving his book up as a lost cause and crossing his arms. “You either,” he adds to Zayn. He doesn’t know what Harry and Zayn get up to on their little wine-and-gossip nights, but it wouldn’t shock him in the slightest if wedding planning was on the agenda, probably some monstrosity involving glitter and pictures printed from Louis-the-nurse’s Facebook page.

“Dunno what you mean,” Zayn says with a smile. “I only ever encourage _healthy_ ideas. Speaking of, you free tonight? Thought we could hit up that bar in the village you like.”

Niall snorts, interrupting as Harry opens his mouth to answer. “_He’s_ going to say yes.” he points to Harry, “And _he’s_ going to say no.” he points to Bressie with a smirk. “Good luck with that Malik.”

God bless Niall. “Got it in one,” Bressie says. “That sounds like drinking without a Dom, and Zayn, you and Haz both know that’s very much against the rules.”  
  
It’s hard being the disciplinarian sometimes, but he has no problem telling Harry no when the suggested activity is a blatant disregard of the rules. When Bressie’d started dating Niall, he hadn’t realised that Niall came with a sub, but it hadn’t been a deal breaker — far from it, in fact. Harry had been wildly out of control, and Bressie had provided some much-needed stability, as well as gotten an outlet for his Dom instincts that sometimes got neglected in a relationship like his and Niall’s.

Zayn sighs. “Well what if he comes over to mine, then, and we promise to read knitting magazines and cross-stitch?” he asks.

“Hello.” Harry waves, “My name is Harry and I might possibly have opinions about how to spend my night.” 

“Not if it involves a moose knuckle, you don’t,” Bressie snaps, and ignores Zayn’s eye-roll.

“He didn’t tattoo himself at my flat, Breslin, and he’s allowed to make his own decisions, even if his _rules_—“ Bressie doesn’t miss, but graciously chooses to ignore, the sneer in Zayn’s words, “— don’t allow him to have a proper night out.”

“We’ve had plenty of proper nights out.” Niall interjects, “Don’t doubt my ability to drink Haz under the fucking table.”

“You’re Irish, it’s cheating.” Harry points an accusing finger. “Don’t be an Irish cheater. It’s unbecoming.” he turns to Zayn, “Can’t drink on antibiotics anyway, so no point going into a Bressie battle on my behalf Z. Shall I come over and we can work on that cross stitch you seem so keen on?” 

“You’ll need to be home by one,” Bressie says on a sigh, going back to his book. “But that’s fine.” He isn’t bothered by Zayn’s glare — let the other sub be mad. Harry and Bressie have an understanding.

“If by cross stitch you mean a film and exceptions lists of celebrities we’d fuck, you’re on. My shift’s over at five — shall we call it six?”

“Sounds like a date.” Harry winks, “Stock up on the lube, yeah?”

Zayn shakes his head and rolls his eyes before tugging open the door to the exam room, letting Louis back in as he leaves.  
  
**************************

Despite his earlier words, Harry had made the executive decision that wine went _spectacularly_ with antibiotics. Like cheese and wine in prescription form. So well, in fact, that Harry was considering finding a way to patent it and become a millionaire. Just like whoever had invented cheese and wine in the first place, or the paperclip. He considers for a second googling who invented the paperclip but he’s all googled out. 

He’d googled about the antibiotics, which was essentially like asking a real life Doctor and they weren’t the _throw up all of your organs if you even sniff alcohol_ kind of antibiotics so Harry figured that was a sign from the Google Gods themselves to indulge in a bottle of cheap £3 Aldi wine and wax poetic about the size of Ryan Reynolds imaginary Dom dick, whilst Zayn and him are trying to decide on something to watch on Netflix. 

“Can I ask about the fit Nurse yet?” Harry asks bluntly, when they’re finally settled in front of some boring Netflix special, biting his lip as he paints a difficult corner of thumb nail. “I’ve been a polite guest for forty-five minutes, but I’m offended you neglected to tell me about him.” Harry looks up for long enough to frown at Zayn, so he’s aware that Harry’s displeased. “Are you trying to call dibs in a very Zayn-like passive aggressive way? Cause I’m not opposed to a threesome...you really didn’t have to go to such extremes.”

“The fit nurse?” Zayn repeats, eyes on the Netflix special, which is offensive when Harry is trying to discuss his future husband. Harry needs a new best sub-friend. “Who are you on about? I’ve not called dibs — actively or passive aggressively — on any nurse.”

Harry is actively offended on his future husband's behalf. He might tweet about it. 

“_Louis_?” he pauses, that’s what his name tag had said anyway. “Great arse? Face that might have come from one of those cherubs in the Sistine Chapel?” he pauses, trying to remember if the Cherubs were the hot shirtless angels or the weird creepy none-babies. He’d only been to three art seminars before dropping out of Uni. He wasn’t Good-Will-Fucking-Hunting. He couldn’t be expected to remember every Cherub on a ceiling. 

“Not the creepy looking cherubs, the hot ones. No, not hot, that’s probably creepy — I don’t have a cherub kink.” he waves a hand, “Just _y’know_ — it was just a metaphor for his beauty, not me being creepy about cherubs. I was being _educated_.” 

He looks to Zayn expectantly, he’d given a pretty elegant explanation of who his future husband is after all. Practically a flawless description, Zayn should have no problem figuring it out. 

“Oh—“ Zayn shrugs a shoulder, offensively casual when talking about Harry’s soulmate. “Didn’t think you’d fancy him. I put him through the ringer today — Leigh-Anne got after me when he got yelled at the third time in a row, so I gave him you. That who you’re planning on marrying?”

“He’ll be a great husband, don’t you think? Very husband-like hands.” he wiggles his fingers, sighing dreamily as he imagines Louis’ hands with a certain ring on a certain finger. “I’m thinking a June wedding, it’ll be very romantic.” 

“What exactly constitutes husband-like hands?” Zayn asks. Zayn doesn’t understand anything about Husband qualities. Zayn obviously doesn’t have a fully prepared list, complete with a mood board of his future husband like Harry does. “And I dunno, I’m never getting married. I’m going to paint myself into oblivion, I told you.”

“I dunno why you have to take your issues out on the institution of marriage Z.” he mock scolds, turning his attention back to his nails now the subject of Harry’s husband seems to have been dropped. “You should never say never, you too might meet your future husband because of an infected camel toe.” he sighs wistfully, remembering their first date that morning. “It’s a proper meet cute and everything, we’re like the start of a romance novel.” 

Harry has _lots_ of experience in romance novels. Bressie has a whole load of books back at the flat that he picks up from charity shops and promptly rejects. He always rejects the best kinds too, the erotic Dom/Sub fiction that’s usually terribly offensive and definitely takes them back about fifty years in sub rights. But also hits every sex fantasy Harry has involving being fucked over the same table he’s just served dinner on. He’s allowed to be a bit backwards for his sex fantasies, that’s fine. Sex is not to be shamed. 

“Have you been digging round in Bressie’s rejected books again?” Zayn drawls lazily. Harry thinks Zayn might have mind reading powers. He vows to investigate at another more appropriate time. Maybe involving less wine. “And I’ve said it before and will say again: I am never getting married. I don’t need somebody telling me what to do all hours of the day and night. Don’t you get tired of it? Two doms — and now you want to add a third? C’mon, Hazza.”

Harry sets the nail varnish aside, resisting the urge to roll his eyes at the rant he can sense coming from Zayn. The other sub is one of his very best friends, but he might as well exist in the deep corners of Reddit waxing poetic about sub rights and the need to be independent. Independence they _have_, Harry would like to point out. He probably will point it out, before Zayn decides to make a tumblr and go full social justice warrior. 

“_First of all_, there’s nothing wrong with a bit of Dom/Sub erotic fiction, especially when the Wifi is down and pornhub isn’t loading.” he shakes his head, best not to get off on a tangent about his backwards kinks when trying to convince his best friend that he isn’t some prisoner in a flat. “Second of all? Secondly? Second something — _anyway_ — my second important point, is that Bres and Ni are my _guardians_, not my future husbands so it’s different — I’m not adding a third like I take a new Dom every day. I’m not starting a polygamous cult.”

_Every_ sub has to have a guardian, at least on paper. For important stuff, medical decisions and other things that if in the middle of a drop, a sub might not make completely rationally. Harry chose for Bressie and Niall to be on his. Moved to Manchester with Niall when he was seventeen, after begging his mum to let him go with his newly eighteen year old best mate.  
  
Bressie had been a happy addition when he fell in love with Niall and realised Harry came along as an add on. Niall had been a bit shit as a Dom really, they were too close as mates and Bressie had stepped in after a few months. They hadn’t looked back since, and despite Zayn’s distaste, Harry was perfectly content with his choices. 

As far as Harry was aware, Zayn had his switch Dad on his paperwork, who was respecting Zayn’s decision to be _‘independent’_. If independence meant denying your basic needs. 

“You didn’t address the bit about someone telling you what to do at all hours of the day and night,” Zayn points out, interrupting his thoughts. “So I don’t care _how_ many doms you have — if you have a whole harem. I can make my own choices.”

“I make my own choices every day.” he shrugs easily, “Just like I _chose_ to put Bres on the paperwork. Yesterday I made the choice to tattoo a camel onto my toe...I make choices all the time.”

The Camel had been his best decision yet. Harry might be a genius. 

“And you get punished when you make a choice they don’t like,” Zayn says. “Don’t you get _tired_ of that?”

They’ve had this conversation roughly 87 times. Harry isn’t sure how to explain it to Zayn in a way he’ll understand. Because Zayn’s never felt it, never felt the safety and security that comes with knowing you’ll always be forgiven. With not having to worry about anything but following the rules. Or _not_ following them if you were feeling a bit insecure and wanted some reassurance. Zayn doesn’t know all of that, and it breaks Harry’s heart to think about. 

“Well sure, when I _choose_ to break a rule — rules I helped _choose_ in the first place — I don’t love getting in shit for it.” he shrugs again, “But I also don’t have to visit a crisis centre every other week, so some choices are better than others, wouldn’t you say?”

“I don’t visit a crisis centre every other week,” Zayn snaps and Harry winces, he may have hit a nerve. “Besides, I work at a place with _professional doms_, so sometimes I just go — hang out with them for five minutes. They’re like sharks after blood with a buzzy sub.”

Harry would point out that Professional Doms are still _Doms,_ with a personal life and likely their own Sub. But then Zayn might decide to reject them _too_ and Harry doesn’t want him to never get any help, ever. 

“You’re so stubborn, you should read some of Bressie’s rejected books — it doesn’t have to be this big evil thing you’ve invented in your angsty mind.” he lifts his nails to inspect them, shaking his head wisely. Just in case Zayn was doubting how wise he is. “Maybe then poor Liam Payne would get a break at the hospital scenting buzzy employee subs and you’d have your very own Dom to angst at.” 

“I don’t always ask Liam Payne,” Zayn protests. “But he’s fit, and _sometimes_ it’s nice to have something to look at to distract me from the fact that I’m literally _fucking useless_ because of my biology sometimes.”

“I’d like to point out, I haven’t dropped in like — two years?” he hasn’t, he’s had a few times where he’s felt a little buzzy but Bressie helps him under really quick and he’s got so many clear rules and guidelines, he rarely has a chance to drop. Not since Jeff. But Harry doesn’t think about his time with Jeff. “So you might need to work a little on your hypothesis about what we need.” he grins, shrugging a shoulder. “But...can we focus on the fact you fancy Liam? I don’t blame you mind, he plays Rugby with Bres on Saturdays — I’ve seen his biceps. Have probably wanked over them to be honest.”

“I don’t fancy Liam,” Zayn says stiffly. “I think he’s fit. There’s a difference. On a completely unrelated note, where do Bressie and Liam play Rugby?”

Harry grins, raising his eyebrows as he looks at his friend. “On a completely unrelated note...I’ll come pick you up on Saturday.”  
  
**********************  
  
It’s a Thursday, and Zayn’s always hated Thursdays. Thursdays are always the busiest points of his week and he’s prickly on this particular Thursday, buzzy and a little anxious. He thought he’d had another pack of suppressants stashed away, but he hadn’t, and he hadn’t had the time to go to the crisis centre, so when a dropping sub stumbles up to his front desk, he nearly shoves away. The emotion is coming off of her in waves, and he snatches the phone, paging Liam to reception before getting whatever information he can out of her.  
  
He knows Liam, of course he does. Everyone at A&E knows Liam— as far as professional doms go, they didn’t get much better than Liam. And he’s nice to look at too— fit, tall and muscular, with warm brown eyes and a smile that makes Zayn melt. He’s caring — _nice_, too — always bringing Zayn cups of water, making sure he gets his breaks, always good for a little pick me up when he hadn’t had time to get a fresh pack of suppressants, or go to the crisis centre. But he’s a _Dom_, which makes Zayn second guess every single feeling he’s had regarding Liam. Sure, _Liam_ is fit. He and Harry had discussed it Sunday. If Zayn had his way, he’d have already climbed Liam like a fucking tree—not that Harry (or anyone) needed to know that. But Liam is also a Dom — enough dom that he’d sought out a career in professional domming in an A&E, which was a whole new level of dom. All well and good to go about minding your business when it came to being classified, but volunteering to dom during points of crisis took it to a whole new level.  
  
Zayn doesn’t _need_ a Dom, thank you very much. Doesn’t need someone telling him what to do at all hours of the day, doesn’t need to be someone’s weird little house-sub. Doesn’t need rules or punishments. He’s independent. An artist. He can support himself and meet his own needs, regardless of Liam’s warm brown eyes, his kind smile, his reassuring, steady touches. No. Zayn is fine without a Dom, but that doesn’t mean he can’t admire the scenery that is Liam, jogging up to the front, just as the sub’s own Dom comes rushing in the doors. 

“Ah, sorry,” Zayn says, gesturing to the dom with his arms around the sub. “He just showed — wasn’t sure he was going to and I didn’t want a full on drop in the waiting room, yeah?” He tilts his head to the side a little. Harry’s mentioned Liam’s biceps on more than one of their occasional wine nights, and Zayn can definitely see the appeal. “Thanks for coming so quick. Can always count on you taking me seriously.”  
  
“Of course.” Liam nods very seriously. Liam takes a lot of things very seriously - his job, domming in general, and Zayn’s water intake. “Could use the exercise anyway, been in the classification room for most of the day.” Liam stretches and Zayn nods, watching a little shamelessly as Liam’s scrub top rides up a bit. Maybe Zayn will get very lucky and Liam won’t wear a shirt at the Rugby match.  
  
Zayn grips the armrests of his chair tight enough his knuckles ache. He could ask Liam. Save himself a trip to the crisis centre or a stop at the pharmacy. He could, but… “Busy back there? Keep hearing Jesy page out ambulances. Dunno if that’s… a _you_ thing or… a nurse thing.”  
  
“Nurse thing usually.” Liam shrugs, shaking his head, “Think the only time we’ve had a rush of dropping subs is when the riot broke out in that club.” he shudders at the memory, and Zayn smiles despite himself. Liam turns warm brown eyes on Zayn next, eyebrows knitted in concern. Liam also takes eyebrow expressions very seriously. “You okay? You look kinda tired, long shift?”  
  
“What?” Zayn had gotten a little lost in thought, thinking about Saturday and the rugby game, about Liam’s biceps, about his very serious eyebrows, and what those eyebrows would look like — “Oh— yeah, I was uh, up late. Working on a new project. Time got away from me a bit.” He shrugs a shoulder. “Happens sometimes, yeah? Artists suffering for their art and all that.” He pauses. He doesn’t need to be rambling on about all this.  
  
“You paint, right? Or draw? Or both -- I dunno if that’s insulting to artists, getting the kind of art you do wrong. But you sometimes have uh — “ he gestures to Zayn’s nails, flickers of paint around his fingers, “So I figured maybe painting.” Zayn smiles faintly and resists the urge to curl his fingers into his palms, tries very hard not to think about why Liam’s been looking close enough at his hands that he can see the specks of paint.  
  
“Paint, yeah,” he says, smile widening a bit. “Sketch sometimes, but that’s just … a hobby. Paint’s what I want to do, y’know?” He’s not usually this open, but now that he’s started, it’s like he can’t stop. “Ah, pleased my parents,” he adds dryly. “My dad’s family’s from Pakistan,” he continues. “Not so thrilled about the artist thing.” He freezes and shakes his head, horrified at how much he’d just willingly offered up to the Dom. He needs to _stop talking_.  
  
“My parents wanted me to be an engineer.” Liam blurts out suddenly, and Zayn’s heart does a funny little flip-flop. There’s something undeniably _kind_ about Liam — something about him that says he wants to make everyone as comfortable as he can, wants to make everyone feel included. “I’d uh — love to see it sometime.” Liam nods, before blushing once again. “Your art, I mean. Not _it_. Whatever _it_ is. I’m not uh — talking about that clown thing.”  
  
“Mine were pushing for lawyer,” Zayn says. “Or doctor. Neither of which I’m much suited for, but — working in A&E, suppose.” He pauses, thinking. “Engineer’s nice, though. Gotta be wicked smart for that. Not that you aren’t, I mean,” he adds, panicked, realizing belatedly that he just called Liam stupid in a roundabout way, or at least not smart enough for engineering school. “I’m — you’re one of the best doms we have. Be a shame to lose that.” He takes a deep breath. “I only show my art to people I trust,” he says. Let Liam make of that what he will. “Clown films, on the other hand…” he smiles up at the Dom. “I don’t want to see it either.” He bites his lip. “The film, I mean,” he adds, because there are a lot of Liam’s “its” he’d like to see. He’s fucking hopeless.  
  
“Uh, anyway, you know our regular, Harry?” Zayn continues on valiantly, “Dunno if you’ve ever had to go to one of his rooms, he’s usually brought in by his doms.” Zayn tries not to let the distaste show on his face, because Liam is a professional Dom, and Zayn doesn’t even have to know Liam personally to know that they probably feel very differently about subs and doms. “Anyway, he— we were in a couple of the same classes at uni? He — he was asking after your friend, that new nurse, just got hired. What’s his name again?”  
  
“Didn’t know you knew Haz, but he knows everyone so it’s not really a surprise,” Liam says and Zayn laughs — Harry _does_ know everyone, Liam isn’t wrong. “You talking about Louis?”  
  
Zayn nods. “Yeah, Haz and I have been friends awhile. I’m not at Uni anymore, so,” he shrugs a thin shoulder. “And yeah, that’s his name. Louis. Harry’s taken a bit of a liking to him.” Which is an understatement; saying that Harry has taken a bit of a liking to Louis was a bit like saying World War II was a simple misunderstanding.

“I uh — dunno if Tommo’s in the market for anything right now — he kinda moved to get away from that,” Liam says and Zayn tilts his head to the side. Louis was recovering from some kind of bad relationship — he’d have to tell Harry. Maybe Harry and Louis could bond over bad relationships.

“You’ll have to give me all the dirty details about Louis’ love life,” he says, instead of _Harry loves a fixer upper_. “Harry pumps me for information every time we hang out now. We went to one of those — that new club? Heard of it? Can’t think of the name. Anyway, spends the whole time asking me if I’ve seen his dick, like we just line the new nurses up for dick inspections. I haven’t, by the way,” he adds hastily. “Seen his dick.”  
  
Of all the things Zayn expects Liam to say, it isn’t:. “He lives with me, I’ll try and sneak a peek,” but he nearly swallows his tongue, breath catching in his throat.  
  
“That’s — not necessary. Don’t encourage Hazza — if you know him, you know how he gets. Single-minded and all that. Like a dog with a bone.”  
  
“Yeah...I mean Tommo just got out of something and Haz is uh — a casual kinda bloke yeah?” Zayn winces, but Liam has a point — Harry is definitely more of a one night stand bloke, though he seems intent on marrying Louis. Better not mention that though. “Might not be the best match.”  
  
“Think he wants something a bit more serious,” Zayn says with a shrug. “If Louis isn’t — if he isn’t looking, though…” He doesn’t really know the new nurse yet — hasn’t had time to talk to him, really, but — “Haz has been asking to be assigned to his rooms, and it— it seems harmless, y’know?” He bites his lip. Harry _is_ pretty harmless, and he’s like straight sunshine, which is the only _straight _thing about him. “I think Louis is a good nurse, anyway.” He doesn’t know why he’s telling the Dom all this, but it’s like now he’s started he can’t stop. “But if — if it’s bothering your friend, I can … I can stop.” He sighs. Harry would be upset, but Zayn doesn’t want to cause undue stress, especially on a new nurse. He’d already been hazed, pretty much. “ Y’know Taylor? That American Leigh-Anne hired for whatever reason? She’s been on me about giving her a turn with Harry.”  
  
“A turn with Harry?” Liam scrunches his face in distaste. “Dunno if even Haz will survive that. Might be safer to keep him with Tommo.”  
  
Zayn laughs at the unexpected diss. “That’s the first time I’ve heard you say anything negative about your coworkers,” he says through his grin. “God, she is fucking useless though, isn’t she? And you’re right, Haz doesn’t deserve that kind of abuse.” _Abuse_ might be a bit of a stretch. Taylor the American wasn’t _bad_ — she was just _a lot_. Would probably spend most of her time with Harry plotting his kidnapping or something.  
  
“Well...I meant she’s quite determined when she sets her mind to something. If she’s requesting him, I don’t think it’s because she’s desperate for an extra patient.” Liam shrugs, and Zayn smiles when he notices his pink cheeks.  
  
“A good point,” Zayn concedes. “Nurses rarely ask for extra patients.”

He pauses, thinking as they lapse into silence. The buzzing in his skin setting in once more. Liam is a dom — Liam is a _good_ dom, despite whatever Zayn’s feelings are about doms in general. He takes a deep breath. “I— I know this is —odd. To ask. But — while you’re up here… I — I ran out of suppressants, and I haven’t been able to get to the crisis centre.” His cheeks pink, embarrassed. He hates being a sub, hates his biology. “Would you — mind to just — just to tide me over till I leave? I’m sorry to ask, I really am, I know it’s awkward and unprofessional of me—“  
  
“Can you get someone to cover you?” Liam doesn’t hesitate, and Zayn nearly melts. He’s so kind. “Don’t — don’t apologise. It’s great to ask for what you need, you can — you can ask me anytime alright?”  
  
“Uh, yeah, I— “ it’s like his body can sense the imminent relief, and it’s suddenly hard to focus. “I haven’t taken my lunch yet, anyway. Um, I’ll meet you in the back? In like ten? Jade’s covering me I think, and she always takes her sweet time coming up here.” Zayn offers Liam a smile as he reaches for the button to page his relief.  
  
He really is fit — this is a one time thing, Zayn tells himself. He’ll let Liam work him down off the edge this one time, and be better prepared in the future.  
  
“Classification room one yeah? It’s just cleared out — or well — “ Liam nods to Zayn’s computer, “You know that already.”  
  
Zayn smiles. “Yeah, got it, thanks. See you in a second.”  
  
After Jade gets there, Zayn grabs his jacket and his backpack, wandering into the back and into the instructed room. “Thanks, again, for doing this,” he says as he enters, cheeks pink. He sets his things down, bending to untie his shoes. “Been so busy I forgot to go to the pharmacy, haven’t — haven’t had time to go to the centre.”  
  
Liam’s eyebrows are doing something complicated, like he doesn’t really approve of Zayn’s laissez faire attitude about his needs. But he smiles easily when he says,“It’s no problem.”  
  
Liam sits on the edge of the bed, and Zayn feels his heart rate spike. He doesn’t _like_ this part, as much as his body needs it. Wants it.  
  
“You’ve done this at the centre yeah? Or do you want me to explain it a little?” Liam asks kindly. Professionally.   
  
“Uh, no, I — they do it at the centre.” He pauses, and can’t make himself move. He hates this — hates feeling weak, hates the way the edge makes him feel unbalanced, off-kilter. At least Liam hadn’t tried to explain it. “Sorry. Bit nervous, I guess. Feel like I’m… wasting resources a bit, yeah?”  
  
“Hey…” Liam shakes his head, reaching out to squeeze Zayn’s hand. There’s a jolt when Liam touches him that Zayn tries to ignore, tries to keep his face passive and relaxed. “This is what I do yeah? You’ve got nothing to worry about, that’s the whole reason we’re here. So you don’t have to worry.” he soothes, reaching for a pillow and throwing it on the ground. “Can you kneel for me? That’s a good lad.”  
  
Zayn takes a deep breath. It’s always hard, when he gets to this part, to shut the part of his brain off that’s screaming at him that he’s weak, helpless, too dependent, but he does his best, kneeling in front of Liam robotically. He automatically reaches out , curling a hand around Liam’s ankle. He knows how this goes. He hates it, hates needing it, but he can’t deny the way his body immediately starts to settle. The _good lad_ washes over him like a balm, and he takes a shuddering breath in.  
  
“That’s it, just focus on my voice. There’s a good boy.” Liam threads his fingers through Zayn’s hair, guiding his head to rest against his thigh, petting him in a steady rhythm. Zayn wants to melt, it feels so good. “Good boy, just breathe now. That’s all you have to do. In and out with me yeah?”  
  
Zayn makes a very soft sound in the back of his throat, resting his head against Liam’s thigh as he’s instructed. The feeling of Liam’s hands in his hair makes him feel shivery and nice, and he sighs, matching his breathing to Liam’s.  
  
***************

“He really is a bit of a frequent flyer, isn’t he?” Louis asks, waving the chart that Jesy hands him in Perrie’s direction. Perrie isn’t the worst bay-mate in the world, and she’s friendly enough. “Harry Styles?” He waves the chart again, and Perrie smiles.

“He’s never been _this much_ of a frequent flyer,” she says with a smile, but doesn’t elaborate.

Louis skims the triage notes. The complaint is brief — _closed head injury_, and the triage notes are sparse. Louis shrugs a shoulder and raps on the door to the exam room, shouldering it open, only to immediately pull back.

The exam room isn’t _small_, but it feels small with as many people as are crowded into it. Harry’s on the stretcher, and Bressie and Niall are sat on either side of him, on the stretcher itself. There are three doms crowded into a corner, and two more standing up at the top of the stretcher. Liam is there, too, which stuns Louis into silence for a second, stood next to the moody receptionist Louis can never remember the name of. Something with a Z, he’s pretty sure. There’s another dom leaned against the counter, arms crossed. Louis suddenly feels very short and rather claustrophobic.

“Didn’t realize you were so popular,” he adds to Harry when he finds his voice. “Can’t say I’m surprised, though. What’s happened now?”

Louis isn’t entirely sure he wants to know the answer...


End file.
